New York City Serenade
by SadEyedLadyoftheLowlands
Summary: AU Loosely Based on Roman Holiday. When Noah Puckerman unknowingly picks up Superstar Rachel Berry in Central Park, he thinks he's got the exclusive story that will take him from stalking celebs to writing for the big leagues. She just wants a break.


**New York Serenade **

**Chapter 1: **Super Nova

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**A/N: OKAY OKAY, I shouldn't be starting another Glee story when I've yet to finish Crazy With It Crazier Without but I had to get this out of my head! CWICW only has 1-2 chapters left and I will finish that before I continue with this story.**

**Anyways, this fic is AU and is basically a way of me combining my love for all things Glee with my love for all things Audrey Hepburn! This story is loosely based on Roman Holiday, and I stress loosely.**

**Enjoy!**

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"Good morning, New York!" Two woman's voices bellowed from the television.

"So Rachel Berry's in town for the Wicked premiere tomorrow, and I don't know about you, Tina, but I am sick of hearing about Rachel Berry."

"Oh I know, Mercedes, I mean I was a fan too in the beginning, but can you say overexposed? You can't go anywhere or turn on any channel without seeing her face, or hearing her name. I am tired."

"Tell me about it. Girl can sing and act, for sure, but there's tons of other talented people in New York, we could be talking about. We need some more chocolate thunder, I'll volunteer" The woman laughs.

"Did you see that photo of her in Us Weekly? She is way too thin if you ask me."

"Oh I know. That skinny white girl needs to eat something."

"I hear she's a Vegan"

"Well, that explains it. You need to eat a hamburger, girl. Well, I'm sure fans are already lining up outside the theatre to get a glimpse at her, but I for one don't know if I'm even excited about it."

"But don't worry we will be there, it is our job."

"Yes we will. So stay tuned for the excitement..."

"And all the bullshiz..." The two woman laughed obnoxiously. "Can we say that?"

Rachel shut off the television, sitting down on her bed in her hotel room overlooking the cityscape of New York. She felt like she was probably the most famous woman in the world at the moment. Especially on the streets of New York. Billboards with her face could be spotted in Manhattan, Brooklyn, and of course Broadway. Adults scooped up gossip magazines on which she graced every cover, scandal after scandal.

_Rachel Berry and Jesse St. James Split – And its messy._

**_Rachel Berry Adopts African Baby_**

_Rachel Berry's Drinking Out Of Control_

**_Diva Meltdown: Star of Wicked: The Movie Blows Up On Set_**

_Catfight : Quinn Fabray and Rachel Berry Fight Over St. James_

All were lies of course. Rachel and her co-star Jesse had never even dated, it was going to be a long time before she wanted children, she hardly ever drank, and though she may be a perfectionist, she thought she treated her co-stars and co-workers with the utmost respect and kindness.

But that hardly mattered to the world. If they weren't praising her every move, they were tearing her down for being too famous, too perfect, and too "everywhere".

She hated to be one of those celebrities that complained about being famous, but lately it had been taking it's toll. When she'd made it to Broadway, she thought all of her dreams had come true. Playing Wendla opposite Jesse in Spring Awakening had been her breakout role, and she had gained the respect of peers in the theatre community. But then they had offered her movie roles and tv guest spots and a recording contract and her fame had exploded. By the time she was cast in Wicked as Elphaba, she couldn't go anywhere without bodyguards. Rabid fans wanted to get a glimpse at her, paparazzi wanted to catch her doing something stupid, and some hated her because they thought she was stealing their celebrity dream boyfriend Jesse St. James (who was cast as Fiyero) away from her. Why they hated her more than Quinn, was beyond her.

She loved it that people loved her work. She loved it when people praised her voice and her acting. She loved it when they compared her to Barbra or Idina. But fame was both a blessing and a big fat giant curse. When they loved her, they LOVED her. But when they hated her, it was brutal.

Being a star had always been her dream. (She had signed her name with a gold star since she could walk) But, she couldn't help but feel let down. Like there was something missing.

A knock at her hotel room door brought Rachel out of her daze, as she looked down on the bright lights of Time Square. One thing's for sure, being a celebrity made sure you had the best rooms at the best hotels in the best cities.

Opening the door, she was greeted by the bubbly face of Shelby Corcoran, her agent and by default, best friend.

"Good morning, Rach" Shelby chirped, letting herself in, and Rachel gave her a small smile and sighed. "I'm here to go over your schedule for today and tomorrow, it's busy busy busy." She sat on the bed and opened a clipboard. "Are you excited?"

Usually Rachel found Shelby's smiles infectious, but she was having trouble with feeling anything but overwhelmed. "Sure", she managed, sitting beside her on the bed. "Let it at me".

"Okay. So you have to be ready in about an hour for that press conference in front of Radio City Music Hall. Everyone's going to be there. Jesse, Quinn, and you will take turns taking pictures. There will be an "impromptu" concert, and then if we have some time we can answer some questions. At one, you will be meeting Will for lunch at Tao (It's a Vegan restaurant, don't worry...)" After a while, Rachel began to tune Shelby's voice out. She kept staring at this kidney shaped mark on the wall. She wondered where it had come from.

"Rachel...?" Shelby snapped her fingers in front of the starlet's spaced out face. "Hello?" She sighed and crossed her arms. "You're not paying attention." Rachel snapped out of her reverie.

"Oh, sorry Shelby..." Rachel leaned back on the bed. "I guess I'm just a little wiped out." Shelby stood up.

"Well... drink an energy drink or something." She looked at her watch. "Kurt will be here in 15 minutes. Try not to argue too much. He's a stylist, he knows what he's doing." Shelby looked at Rachel wearily and started to head out the door. I'll be back at 9, don't forget..."

"to smile." Rachel put on the biggest show face she could. Shelby smiled and exited the room.

Rachel lay back on the bed. This was going to be a long couple of days. And she had to look her absolute best. Why couldn't she just wear sweatpants for once?

* * *

Okay, so she'd had a little too much to drink. Who could blame her? She hadn't had a moment to herself all week, and when she'd finally gotten to breathe, the bar just kept offering her free drink after free drink.

"Do you know who I am?" She was exclaiming wildly, giggling and hanging all over Jesse, who was grimacing. "I am a star! I am beyond this world..." Jesse struggled to hold her up as she stumbled, drunkenly.

"Okay, Rach..." He said softly. "Maybe you should go back to your hotel room."

"But I wanna dance!" Rachel squeaked and tried to ballet dance around him. "Jesse..."

"Okay." He eyed her wearily. "Let's go get Shelby." He struggled to hold her up and they hobbled towards the booth where Shelby was chatting up Will Schuester, Wicked's director.

"Shelby." Jesse got her attention, struggling to keep Rachel from going to the dance floor and making a fool of herself. The minute Shelby saw Rachel she jumped out of her seat.

"Oh, no." Pulling the two actors away from Will, she whispered furiously at Jesse. "How did this happen? Who let this happen?" Rachel was busy humming a tune and playing with the hem of her dress. "Oh my god, she's completely wasted."

"It's not my fault, you're her agent, shouldn't you be paying more attention?" Jesse whispered back, and Shelby took Rachel out of his hands.

"You have pretty hair." Rachel giggled, playing with a lock of Shelby's hair as Shelby panicked.

"Don't worry. I'll get her back to her hotel."

"Without the paps seeing her?" Jesse warned, eyeing the entrance to the bar. "They've been waiting for something like this to happen." Shelby looked around the bar anxiously.

"Is there a back door? I'll call her driver and have us picked up..." Shelby pulled out her blackberry.

"I'll go ask." Jesse made his way to the bar and began speaking to the bartender. That's when Quinn Fabric sashayed up to the bar holding a martini, and glancing at Rachel, who was currently trying to remember the lyrics (and recite them loudly) to Baby Got Back, from across the room.

Quinn laughed sharply. "Oh, my." The girl stirred her drink. "What has Miss Diva done now?"

Jesse gave the girl a glare. "She just had a little too much to drink, that's all. Shelby's gonna take her back to her hotel room." Quinn smiled and looked up at Jesse through her long dark eyelashes.

"That is priceless." She laughed, dryly. "I guess the pressures of fame are too much for her... She looks ridiculous." She laughed more, watching the girl.

Jesse scoffed, and thanked the bartender for the use of the back entrance.

"Could you be more of a jealous bitch?"

Quinn scowled as Jesse walked away. As far as anyone knew, Quinn was a sweet, blonde, hometown kind of girl. Her secret? She hated Rachel Berry. And she would do anything to eclipse her fame. Turning her attention to the cute bartender, she hoped she'd soon get her chance.

* * *

Noah Puckerman grimaced at his hand. It was fucking horrible. He was sure Matt was cheating.

"Fold." Finn Hudson conceded to his left, laying his hand on the table facedown.

"Whaddya, say, Puck?" Matt grinned mischievously, eyeing the huge pot in the centre of the table.

"I think he's bluffing" Mike laughed, already out of the game filling his mouth with pretzels, and finishing up his beer.

_You had to be fucking kidding me, why did he bet so much fucking money? _"Shut it, Chang." Puck barked, sure he was screwed. Laying down his hand, he braced himself for impact.

"Two Pair." He said, watching Matt smile wider, if that was possible.

"You're fucked, Puckerman." Matt laughed, laying down his cards. "Straight Flush. Suck it, man!"

Matt made a rude gesture and Puck leaned his head back and groaned.

"No thanks, man. I don't swing that way." He stood up. "Maybe you should ask Finn."

"Fuck off, man." Finn complained, punching Puck in the shoulder.

"Well I'm out." Puck stuffed his last 20 into his pocket. "While I still have some cash." He glanced at Finn. "You still got that photoshoot tomorrow with that Berry chick?"

"Yep. Bright and early tomorrow. You should've seen that girl today at Radio City. She is...hot."

"Yeah, whatever." Puck brushed it off. "I gotta interview her tomorrow for Flash. It's bullshit."

Finn laughed. "There are worse jobs out there, trust me Puck, she's a babe." Puck shrugged.

"I fucking hate this. Why can't I cover a Yankees game or something? Or interview Evel Knievel? I fucking hate musicals."

"This is a high profile interview man." Finn explained.

"Besides," Mike laughed from the corner. "I think Knievel's dead."

"Damn." Puck exclaimed and grabbed his jacket. "See you homos later. Have fun doing each other."

As he exited Matt's apartment, a pretzel hit the back of his head.

He was not looking forward to tomorrow. But hey, a paycheck is a paycheck.

* * *

Rachel Berry squirmed in her hotel bed.

"Drink this!" Shelby demanded, handing her a bottle of water. Rachel took it reluctantly and began to drink. "You are going to be so hungover tomorrow. Why did you do this?"

Rachel frowned at the woman and threw the blanket away from her body. "It's too hot." She complained.

"How many drinks did you have?"

Rachel thought hard. There's was that first martini and the second and those two shots of tequila. And then...she'd lost count.

"I don't know...?" She said, looking at a disappointed Shelby.

"Ugh...Rach." She stood up, tucking Rachel's blanket back over her. "I know you've been forced to do a lot lately, but trust me its all going to pay off. But not if you keep doing this. The paps would eat this stuff up." She sighed. "Trust me, you do not want to make them hate you more."

Rachel's face turned angry. "Ugh. Why do they hate me in the first place? I'm nothing but gracious. I'm so sick..." she grunted. "Of all of this...this crap." Rachel wore an indignant expression, acting like she had just said something completely inappropriate. (Crap was as close to swearing as she got) She kicked the blankets off again. Shelby sighed.

"Rach...just get some sleep." Leaving two aspirin on the bedside table and turning off the light. "I'll be back to get you in the morning." She paused to look at her. "Just...It'll seem better in the morning, okay?" Shelby closed the door, and Rachel was left in the darkness.

And the room was spinning. She started to laugh at herself. At nothing.

This was pretty funny, if you asked her. She couldn't remember ever being this drunk. At the most she'd only ever been buzzed. If only those magazines could see her now, she was doing exactly what they said she'd been doing for the last couple of months.

Stumbling out of bed, she made her way to the window. Opening the curtain, the lights of Time Square filled the room. It was exciting. She'd always loved that about New York, how it was always going, always alive, that something was always happening.

The strange thing is she should have felt a part of that now, but she didn't.

She just felt more alone than ever.

Pulling her hair in a ponytail, and pulling on a t-shirt, some jeans, and a Yankees cap, she made a couple decisions.

#1 Putting on pants in the dark while inebriated was super difficult

and #2 She was going to take a break from all this, and do what she wanted to do for once. So what if she was having trouble walking? She needed to get out of this stupid hotel room and away from her life.

Grabbing her sunglasses on the way out, she hoped that her disguise was enough. And she hoped no one had tipped the paps off on what hotel she was staying in.

* * *

"What the fuck, Santana? What are you talking about?" Puck was walking home through Central Park, pretty confident that he was scarier than any creep that might dare to threaten him.

"What is your problem?"

_Santana blathered on on the other end._

"My credit score? Seriously?"

_She screeched at him._

"You can't break up with me because we're not dating."

_Another screech from the phone speaker._

"Sex isn't dating. You said that yourself."

Puck held the phone away from his ear. "You are fucking insane, woman."

After listening awhile longer with a grimace on his face, he'd had enough. "Fuck, whatever. I gotta go. Go sober up or something."

Puck slammed his phone shut and continued walking through the dark park. It was pretty empty, except for a few skittish squirrels, and he was now totally pissed, so he let out a loud yell of frustration. It's not like he even liked Santana Lopez, they'd just ended up sleeping together a lot. In fact, their relationship was more trouble than it was worth. Sure they had great sex, but she was completely insane. And not in a good way. In an _"I'm a frigid bitch who thinks everyone should do everything for me with nothing in return"_ way. As far as he was concerned, good riddance. That was the last time he was going to get all riled up because of a woman.

Unfortunately, that was when he heard _her._

"Don't tell me not to live, just sit and putter..." A voice warbled around the corner. "Life's candy and the sun's a ball of butter..."

Puck couldn't tell where the woman's voice was coming from, but she sure didn't sound sober.

"Don't bring around a cloud to rain on my paraaade..." The woman held the last note pretty long and loud and then broke into a laugh.

He was ready to dismiss the voice as some drunk idiot, until he saw where the voice was coming from.

She was lying on a park bench with a baseball hat and sunglasses lying on the ground beside her. Her feet were resting on top of the back of the bench and she was laughing hysterically at herself.

Puck might have been a complete and total douchebag 99% of the time, and he might live in New York where people usually kept to their own business, but this alarmed him. It was totally not safe for a woman (who appeared to be very inebriated) to be completely alone in Central Park in the middle of the night. Any freak could rape and murder her. Also, she kept opening and closing her eyes, and looked as if she was about to pass out on the bench.

He didn't want to scare her, but he couldn't just leave her there. He pulled out his phone and called a cab. Hopefully, he could get her to get in it.

He approached the bench, hesitantly, just as she seemed to be slipping off of it.

"Uh, uh." He said as he caught her, and she moaned in protest.

"Sleepy time." she mumbled, rolling over, and he got a good look at her face. Good, god was she gorgeous. And well-groomed. Her clothes looked pretty nice too. She wasn't some crack addict or hooker. She didn't look like she was homeless. Her face was scrunched in discomfort and he saw her start to shiver.

"Hey, Lady." Puck began, unsure. "Wake up. This isn't a good place to sleep."

She shifted. "So tired..." She wrapped her arms around herself.

"Yeah, I know," Puck sighed, heavily. "Time to go home to sleep."

"What about the movie? Kurt wants to give me a beehive..." She mumbled, curling her legs into her body. Puck clenched his jaw in frustration.

"Yeah, don't know what you're talking about, babe." He grunted in frustration, and tried to get her to sit up. "I called you a taxi, c'mon. Get up." Her eyes fluttered open, and she jerked.

"Who are you?" She said calmly, and he was glad she hadn't freaked out at him.

"Hi. I'm Puck. Follow me to a taxi." He said simply, as if he were speaking to a child, and she frowned.

Then she laughed. "Puck?" She snorted. "What kind of a name is Puck? Are you a fairy?"

He gave her a look like she was crazy, and then rolled his eyes, lifting her to her feet. "Nope." She kept laughing. "C'mon." She stumbled, and then let out a squeal of protest.

"My hat..." she whined, and looked at him sadly. "My glasses." She reached towards the bench and he tried to balance her.

Looking back, he held a hand out as if to keep her balanced with his mind. "Stay." He commanded, reaching down to grab her hat and glasses. She giggled and shifted her weight.

Reaching to hold her up again, he walked her to the edge of the park. No cab. _What was he thinking, actually calling for a taxi?_ Whistling for one, a yellow car squealed right in front of him, and he loaded her into the backseat. She laughed, and he figured he might as well take a taxi the last few blocks home too. Clamouring in beside her, the cabbie asked him for his destination. He gave them the directions and he looked at the girl beside him who was currently humming softly to herself as she leaned her head against the window of the cab. Her eyes were closed.

"So where do you live?" Puck asked her, and she just made an indecipherable noise. He sighed heavily in disapproval.

"Babe." He said, and slapped her cheek gently. "Wake up. Where do you live, where are you staying?"

She moaned again and didn't open her eyes.

All he could think is,_ Fuck, why did I have to stop? Why do I have such a goddamn bleeding heart?_

The taxi pulled up in front of the dump he called home in Hell's Kitchen and he handed the taxi driver his last twenty.

"Is that enough for you to drive her home? Or do you need more?" Puck questioned, and the cabbie turned to look at him. Noting the passed out girl in the backseat he shook his head.

"Uh Uh, no way." Puck scowled.

"What do you mean? Just take her where she wants to go!"

The cab driver protested more. "No way, she's passed out, man! You're not saddling me with some drunk chick who's not even awake to tell me where to go!" Puck grunted. "Besides, twenty's not enough." Puck growled, put one of the girl's arms over his shoulder and lifted her out of the car, leaning her against a lamppost.

"Thanks for fucking nothing, man!" He growled, throwing the twenty at the cab driver. The cab sped away, and Puck took a moment to examine the mess that he had just gotten stuck with. She was mumbling again. (Well at least he knew she wasn't going to pass out and die from alcohol poisoning)

"It's step change step step step-ball change" The brunette said,holding her baseball cap in her hands. "and I want flowers in my dressing room."

Puck had some experience dealing with drunk chicks, but this one was particularly crazy. He examined his choices. He could drop her off at a hospital or police station, but he didn't think that she would be very co-operative, and he didn't think he could walk her all the way there. He was sure she just needed to sleep it off. Somewhere that wasn't the middle of Central Park.

_Fuck._ He thought as he grabbed her arm and lead her up the steps to his apartment. He was sure he would regret this.

"Guess you'll have to sleep on my couch," He said softly, and she laughed and grabbed on to his bicep. Her face scrunched up and he tensed.

"I feel..." she said, her face turning pale. He barely had time to jump out of the way, before she hurled all over the apartment steps. "Hold my hair." She said before she threw up again and he cringed and actually did it. Rubbing her back, he stepped over the puke and led her up to his door and inside.

He almost felt bad for leaving the puke there. Almost. But his neighbours and landlord were assholes, and he thought they probably deserved to step in it.

Puck's apartment was a small bachelor's apartment, but it was cheap, and it was within walking distance of a lot of good stuff. Well, reasonable walking distance. Puck didn't mind walking.

Grabbing a towel and wiping the girl's face clean, he grabbed an old band t-shirt and some sweat-pants and put them in her hands.

"Here. Put these on. They'll be more comfortable." He grabbed a blanket and a pillow, placed them on the couch and turned to her.

He was a bit alarmed to see her in a bra and panties, struggling to pull the t-shirt over her head. Drunk girls had absolutely no modesty. Trying not to ogle the strange drunk girl who was practically naked in his apartment (because even that was low for Puck), he helped her get her hands in the shirt and made his way towards the bathroom.

"You can sleep there on the couch, okay?" He said, and he heard her mumble something about 'Barbra Streisand never sleeping on a couch.

When he made it out of the bathroom, after changing and brushing his teeth, it was pretty quiet.

He was glad she was asleep and her crazy was out of his hair now, but he didn't want her to choke on

her vomit or anything (or most importantly puke all over his apartment) so he grabbed a bucket. Making his way to the couch, he found it empty.

_Okay, where the fuck did she go?_

Checking the entire apartment, (including under the sink 'cause you never know), he finally located the slumbering crazy girl he'd found in the park : snuggled in his king-sized bed sound asleep.

Groaning in frustration, he picked her up (without waking her up) and plopped her on the couch.

Placing the bucket on the floor beside her head, he hoped she had good aim.

He might have brought her home, and held her hair when she threw up, and let her sleep in his apartment, but there was no fucking way she was sleeping in his bed, that was too far.

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**Review Please :)**


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